


pain in my desire

by queerheda



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, lio is struggling y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerheda/pseuds/queerheda
Summary: "He wakes up freezing, the cold ache deep in his bones, and even though his skin feels hot where it’s touching Galo’s bare arm under the blanket he’s still so goddamn cold everywhere else it barely registers."Lio struggles with the emptiness the Promare left behind. Galo helps.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 4
Kudos: 128





	pain in my desire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sickdays event on Tumblr, prompt "cold". The biggest thanks to my friend who hates angst fanfiction but read this through anyway.
> 
> I have watched this goddamn movie like four times in the past month and every single time I've thought "i'm gonna have to make post-movie lio stick his hand into a bonfire aren't i" and it's not a bonfire but I'm still a terrible person lmao. Enjoy your angst. 
> 
> Title from Fire Burning by Secret Weapons. Yes I named my angsty Promare fic after a song called Fire Burning.

Cold.

Empty. 

That's what he's been ever since the Promare left. Ever since the fire burning inside him went out. 

Some days he feels like he can't breathe with all the cold inside him. It's like his lungs have been frozen solid, like the Freeze Force put another one of their bullets right between his ribs and now the ice is spreading over lung tissue and expanding to his heart, and from there through his veins to his limbs, up his throat to his jaw and eventually his brain. Not burning feels a lot like dying. 

Freezing like this feels like he’s already dead. 

Some days he’s… okay. Not really good, except when he’s really doing something, or curled up in Galo’s arms, but okay. Like his body is starting to remember how to be without the fire. His head is catching up, recalling things from his childhood day by day. Before he was burning. 

He’s not okay today, very much not so. He wakes up freezing, the cold ache deep in his bones, and even though his skin feels hot where it’s touching Galo’s bare arm under the blanket he’s still so goddamn cold everywhere else it barely registers. His first instinct is to reach for the fire inside him – it takes him just a bit too long to remember that it’s no longer there, and by the time he realizes that it’s already too late; he’s come face to face with a gaping hole of nothing in his chest, and he wants to scream. He almost does. 

His eyes burn. He doesn’t care. He buries his face in the pillow, inches a bit closer to Galo, and allows the tears to soak quietly into the vibrant yellow of his pillowcase. 

He’s still not okay when he wakes up some time later. Galo is no longer next to him, but the bedroom door is ajar and the smell of breakfast is still somewhat inviting, even with the ice in his veins. He gathers an extra blanket around himself and stands up. 

Galo is wearing a frilly apron, over nothing but boxer shorts. He’s kind of dancing around in the kitchen, and humming as he goes, and Lio finds a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite how he’s otherwise feeling. Galo’s got a spatula in his hand, and there are eggs on the pan. He does this clumsy half-pirouette and stumbles a bit, before his eyes land on Lio at the doorway. 

“Lio!” he exclaims, face brightening impossibly much as he transfers the eggs onto a plate, and the warmth that blossoms in Lio’s chest at that is almost shocking. It’s brief, barely dipping his toes into warm water and hurrying away, but it is there, gone as fast as it came but different from cold anyway. It’s good. 

It’s not enough to make his day good, though, and that must show on his face, because Galo stops moving like he’s hit a wall, eyes widening, and Lio figures he probably looks like hell. Galo’s expression is quickly morphing into panicked concern. The smile Lio tries to offer feels like a cracked mask. 

“Lio,” Galo repeats, voice lower, more careful. He takes a tentative step towards Lio, puts the spatula down, and takes another step. Lio doesn’t move from the doorway. Galo walks up to him, eyes earnest and worried, and Lio can’t look at them anymore, so he turns his gaze to the floor. It’s cold under his feet in spite of the thick socks he’s wearing. 

Galo reaches a hand out and sets it to the back of Lio’s head, pulling them close, and Lio lets his head rest on Galo’s chest. He suppresses a shiver, but Galo must feel it anyway; he holds him just a little bit tighter. 

“I’m gonna go grab you a hoodie, okay?” Galo murmurs above Lio’s head, and Lio nods numbly. He appreciates that Galo doesn’t ask anymore, because Lio can’t really find it in himself to explain the emptiness the flames left; although Galo has suffered his own losses in life and can relate to the hollow pit inside him, he cannot truly understand. Lio has tried to talk it out with him once, when the first of these kinds of days hit and he could do little more than shiver in bed and blink back tears, and Galo hasn’t asked since. Sometimes he’ll ask if there’s anything he can do to help, but the _what’s wrong_ gets skipped over, now. 

“There’s some breakfast,” Galo says as he removes his arms from around Lio slowly and points towards the counter. “There should be clean utensils in the drawer, the stove is still hot so be careful, I think we’re out of orange juice? I haven’t made coffee yet,” he rambles as he walks backwards to the direction of the bedroom. 

Lio stands still for a moment, missing Galo’s warmth around him. It’s not a replacement for the Promare, but it’s still something. Comforting. Breakfast is also going to be warm and comforting, he decides, and walks around the table to grab the eggs and some toast. 

The warmth from the stove stops him on his tracks as he walks past it, the air softly pulsating with the barely dissolving heat. Lio turns to look at it. It’s almost _inviting_. There’s still a faint, red glow around one of the hotplates, and it’s, it’s, it’s… 

It’s _burning_. And it’s drawing him in like a moth to a flame. The metaphor isn’t even far off. Lio watches in a trance as he reaches a hand towards that glow; feels a momentary chill as the blanket around his shoulders drops to the ground. 

He tries to stop himself. There’s a rational part of his brain that’s screeching for him to stop, to take his hand back. Screeching that he’s going to hurt himself, that he doesn’t have his flames anymore, but another part, a part that’s been drowning since he stopped burning wails back _exactly, I don’t have my flames anymore, I need this heat more than I need air_ and it’s that voice that screams louder, so he watches in fascinated horror as his hand comes to hover over the hotplate. This close he can already feel the skin of his palm starting to blister.

Just one more centimeter, maybe. Just one more centimeter and then he’ll be burning again, he’ll be _burning again, like he used to, warm and powerful and unrestrained and not so goddamn_ **_empty, please–_ **

He doesn’t scream. His fingertips graze the smooth surface just enough for there to be a sharp hiss at the contact, but before he can do more there are arms around him, a large hand grabbing his wrist and pulling him away, back coming in contact with strong chest, and it all happens so fast it leaves him dizzy. It’s like getting slammed back into his own body, and he’s barely comprehending that as Galo shoves his hand into the sink and yanks the faucet open, turns it so it’s freezing cold, and Lio doesn’t scream at that either. 

But he does whimper, the broken sound falling through his lips without his permission. Galo keeps muttering “I’m sorry” over and over again even as he forces Lio to keep his hand under the icy stream. Lio tries to fight it, he really does, but Galo is firm and solid around him as Lio struggles to get away from the cold. 

“I’m sorry, Lio, I’m so sorry, I know, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, shh, just breathe, I’m right here, I’m so sorry about this, just a bit more…” 

Lio realizes he’s crying. He’s fairly sure Galo is, too. 

Galo holds him tight as he shivers, keeps muttering reassurances and apologies and sweet nothings to distract him. Lio doesn’t calm down until Galo shuts the water off and starts gently drying his hand, never letting go of him, hands so careful on his skin. It makes something inside Lio ache, not necessarily in a bad way but ache nonetheless. Another shiver travels up his spine. Galo holds him tighter. 

The silence stretches between them. Lio finds himself tensing up, feels the stiffness creeping into his shoulders as he waits for the inevitable question from Galo, but Galo says nothing; he just rubs his thumbs on Lio’s shoulders, silent and steady. Lio doesn’t risk taking a look at his face, too afraid to find him looking angry, or disappointed, or pitying, or… 

Or sad. 

Galo probably looks sad. 

“Do you wanna go back to bed?” Galo asks quietly, disturbing the silence that’s settled over them. “I’ll stay with you, okay?”

Staying in bed all day doesn’t sound good. It sounds like a waste of time. It sounds like being useless. 

Staying in Galo’s arms sounds good. It sounds like safety. It sounds like being warm. 

Lio nods hesitantly. 

Galo bundles him up in a hoodie he’s practically drowning in and starts to steer him towards the bedroom, breakfast forgotten. He’s almost painfully gentle, like he’s afraid Lio might break apart with any sudden movement. Lio doesn’t fault him for that – he doesn’t think it’s entirely wrong. 

It’s warm in Galo’s arms, once he finally settles into bed and Galo wraps himself around him like an octopus. Galo has been a living furnace ever since Lio met him, and especially after Lio stopped burning. _I’ll burn for the both of us, then_ , Galo has told him, before. _My burning soul will burn for the both of us until you get yours back._

Lio is grateful for so many things. He could start listing them – he’s tried to list them, in fact. But despite the cold that plagues him in days like this, there are just too many items to write down. He could spend days pointing out things about just Galo he’s grateful for, not to mention everything else (Meis, Gueira, Aina and Lucia, Kray’s imprisonment, the Burnish, that he’s alive, that the Burnish hate crimes are finally slowing down, Remi, Varys, Ignis, even Heris sometimes). It’s easy to forget when his very bones feel frozen, but in Galo’s arms, it’s just a bit easier to remember. 

“Hey, firebug,” Galo whispers, mouth somewhere to the left of where Lio’s hair is parted. The nickname tugs at the corner of Lio’s mouth. “What are you thinking?” There’s a hint of concern in his tone, absolutely warranted in light of what just happened, but a soft smile is playing on his lips, Lio can feel it. 

_Thank you_ , he means to answer, but what comes out is “I’m sorry” before he can stop it. Lio bites his lip and presses his head a little harder to Galo’s chest. Swallows. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “For… this.” A vague gesture with his burnt hand and a waver in his voice. “I don’t know what… what happened.” Talking is easier when he doesn’t have to look at Galo, but it’s still not _easy_. Galo runs a finger down his spine over the hoodie. “I just… I don’t know,” he tries and fails again. 

“You don’t have to,” Galo hums. “We’ll figure it out.” 

“We’ll… we’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out,” Lio repeats. Holds his breath to see if he really believes the words. 

“Tomorrow,” Galo says, and that’s what it takes to convince Lio. Tomorrow. It doesn’t have to be now. Tomorrow is good. 

Right now he can just be warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Toss a comment to your author and come scream with me on [Tumblr](https://explodoriot.tumblr.com)


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